


A Shot In The Dark

by dear_monday



Series: Another Knife In My Hands [1]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Gen, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:07:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dear_monday/pseuds/dear_monday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She isn't surprised when the police come knocking. The mothers always know. Sparked by <a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m33lleFle41qbvxxwo1_500.jpg">this picture</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Shot In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [courtneylovedcobain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/courtneylovedcobain/gifts).



> **warning for non-graphic references to past serial killing.**

She isn't surprised when the police come knocking. The mothers always know.  
  
She visits him in prison. Orange doesn't suit him, and they've cut his hair. The brutal buzz cut and the harsh lighting throw deep shadows into the hollows of his eyes, make his face a grinning skull. She hardly recognizes her boy, and that isn't right. They shouldn't have done this to him.  
  
"Are you sorry?" she asks, watching him through the smeared glass.  
  
He meets her eyes, looking all of fifteen years old again. "I'm sorry I got caught," he says. He's never lied to her.  
  
The warden in the corner drums his fingers against the butt of his gun. She ignores him. "How are they feeding you?" she says, running a critical eye over her son. There are new shadows clinging to his collarbones, pooling in the hollow of his throat, tucked under his jawline.  
  
His lip curls. "It's shit," he says. "I wouldn't even feed it to the dogs. Can't fuckin' wait to come home."  
  
"Language."  
  
"Sorry, ma." He stretches, and she notices finger-shaped bruises curled around the side of his throat. He's fast and he's tough, but he's small; of course he's a target. He'll have to build a reputation for himself soon if he wants to survive this place. He hasn't mentioned his fellow inmates yet, but he doesn't need to. It takes more than a parking violation to get you locked up in a maximum security prison like this one.  
  
"But the whole system's fu-- out of whack," he says, his jaw set and his eyes dark. "These people in here? They're scum, ma, all of them. I was doing the world a _favor_."  
  
"That isn't what the papers said." She remembers the headlines. _Jersey Devil Taken Into Police Custody! Life Sentence For Brutal Murderer!_ She remembers the articles laying out the cold, stiff facts: Frank's full name, his date of birth, a grainy mugshot. What upsets her most is that they got it all wrong - he's her boy, not some kind of awful monster. He was only doing what he thought was right.  
  
"I want to come home," he says, looking back up at her. So young, she thinks. So _young_ , still, after everything.  
  
"Soon, sweetheart," she says. "Soon."


End file.
